And You Smiled at Me, Because You Knew
by TannerBananer
Summary: William Shakespeare completely related to Peter Pan's state in his predicament. He truly loved Stella Monroe, though, through his well aged 50 year old mind, and 17 year old body, he denied any thoughts without the sadistic female. Limerance.
1. Smile Just One More Time

**I Find it rather irritating that I start more stories than i keep up with. But Blah, Who gives a care? Behold! My Peter Pan Phase of obsession D':**

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><p>My vanity was grossly over-populated with hair care products. In fact, over populated would actually be an understatement to describe the colorful monstrosity that sheathed the sight of the black vanity.<p>

The reason to the cans of hairspray, hair straighteners, and various other products that I used ritually, was my immensely thick locks of wavy black hair that I commonly kept tied up into a low pony tail to contain the mess, or otherwise, I'd straightened the living hell out of the untamed growth until it were as straight and thin as possible. Not a very healthy choice, my mother always tended to bicker and complain about how I'd received my grandma's hair and how I should much more rather treasure the strands, though it isn't her suffering through this thick haze of my hair. At times I wished to cut it.

The most ironic thing about taking approximately half an hour on the job, is that I'm barely noticed in school. I could blend into the cream colored walls without any excessive effort. Though I did enjoy the solitude seeing as though I practically didn't have a voice in school, it was still a pain in various ways. On the bright side, I wasn't a complete loner, because the Social teacher was very fond of me, which was somewhat satisfying.

Continuing my attempt to straighten my mess of raven black, I managed to stare at myself over the Bedhead products and winced slightly at the result the mirror gave me – Still an unresolved mess of locks.

"Damnit" I muttered, unplugging the iron hair straightener I purchased with 3 babysitting jobs, and chucking said straightener a distance away from me, not being able to look at the sleek red electronic, "I'm disappointed in you" I mumbled to myself, picking my body off the seat of the vanity and slipped into my School uniform which consisted of a regular black skirt which I – and numerous other girls – folded up at least half way, a white button up blouse, and a tie. Though myself, highly insecure and having absolutely no confidence in the uniform the other girls strut, wore black nylons and a knit sweater that gave off a sense I had no curves a 16 year old girl would already have.

"Stelly, I already phoned your taxi!" hollered the horrid woman from down the stairs, I could already smell the coffee she drank minutely drift into my room and recoiled in the scent – I didn't like coffee, but nobody in their right mind would deny coffee as a morning aroma to wake up to.

Sighing in defeat as I took one more last glance at my reflection – my eyes clashed wildly with my hair, being so ice blue, and my hair was still in its wicked splendor of a tangled mess that I'd rather not influence, and I desperately was in need of some type of spray on tanner, seeing as though I didn't usually go outside much.

"Your oatmeal's on the counter!" the beastly woman screeched once more, I peeled open the barricade from between myself and my father & mother's proclaimed house sitter and ran down the stairs, to be revealed a tall, slender, blond bombshell of a 19 year old wearing my father's Harvard sweater.

"Give that to me you dirty hoe!" I seethed, instantly leaping forwards to the almost – woman that was practically the same size as me, and tugging desperately to the gray cotton.

It was evident my house/babysitter was infatuated with my dad, but I wasn't the one to be particularly involved in her love affair. Additionally, my father only liked older woman, this was a fact my mother broke to me when she was heavily intoxicated – this was the reason to my daddy's and mommy's eight year difference - My dad being 29, and my mom being 37- So I didn't worry about anything with this tramp, and my daddy, she didn't have a chance.

"You're not using it!" she replied whilst both her and I started wrestling over the damned hoodie that basically covered a majority of her body.

"Y-Yeah I am! It's cold outside!" was my response with an equal amount of venom, she instantly stopped her body, and paused to slip out of the hoodie, "Damnit, Stella, you little bitch fits faze me" she muttered under her breath as she tossed the fabric at me, unveiling to me her black laced bra that pushed up her size C boobs to her ears.

I ignored her comment that left me confused and dropped the knit sweater to the floor, replacing it with the Harvard bunny hug.

Taking the bowl of peaches and cream, I downed the breakfast and instantly heard the honk of a horn.

The thing about being in a private school, was the unlimited amount of choices.

With that being said, the biggest reason to having absolutely no friends - not including Mr. Pannerson (Social teacher), Todem (Regular Taxi Driver), and one actual student that I at times linger with, Curios – was that I was in PSDL, other known as Personal Self – directed learning. You had to actually make an effort to go forth and create friends, which i wasn't so gifted at.

Fascinating, that I actually got to choose what I do, I took one class a day, and seeing as though this is Friday, today was Social. Best day of the week.

Walking the to the fourth floor of the school, I remained quiet once reaching the classroom and found a vacant seat to occupy, and too soon, Mr. Pannerson was at the front of the class.

Pannerson wasn't exactly the most oldest of the staff at our school. In fact, he looked to be our age, and whenever we questioned his age, he'd always say he was 21. Believable, if his voice didn't crack on usual occasions. What also brought me to have fondness towards Mr. Pannerson was the fact that he was well – liked by many of the girls here. It was completely obvious he was an attractive male, but the thought of him being 21 creeped me out. I suppose I was much like my mother.

Disgusting, I'm aware.

The hour passed by effortlessly, and once it was over, he gave us our weekly assignment, then sat at his desk attempting to look busy.

Both him and I knew he wasn't actually over – piled with work, so once all the students left the room, I walked up to the red head and smiled widely at the man, "So what can I help you with, Ms. Monroe?" he asked, pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, offering a quirky grin.

My response was a reveal from what my hands were hiding, "May I?" I asked, pulling out a variety of colored nail polishes, to which he tried fruitlessly to muffle his dry chuckle.

"I suppose why not" was his response, placing the pen he was fiddling with delicately on the desk and unfolding his palm onto the surface, allowing me to pull up a chair and paint his coarse nails with the polish.

"What color?" I questioned, placing each of them in a row on his desk to present to him a quarter of my collection.

"Surprise me" he muttered.

"Then you can't look at your nails 'til I'm done" I challenged, knitting my eyebrows together.

"Fine 'nen" was his nonchalant response.

Observing the 12 colors of polish, I immediately picked the bright yellow and started painting the index finger of his right hand.

"So have you completed your previous assignment?" he asked, obvious with the humor in his voice that he wasn't actually pressuring me on it, his face directing his vision towards the window.

"If you haven't noticed, my work is already handed in" I replied monotonically, in hopes he wouldn't pester me about my studies.

"Ah, well then. What are you doing this weekend, milovely?" he asked, running his stray hand through his tousled crimson locks that seemed to grow rapidly day by day.

"Watch re-runs of Jersey Shore, Hockey Practice on Sunday, eat chips, get fat, what about you?" I asked, switching a finger down with pink polish.

"I'm planning on a trip to somewhere tropical with a friend" he muttered, overlapping his hand on his eyes, blocking the suns violent rays through the window that wore no curtain.

"Sounds delightful, where to?" I asked

"'Dunno yet" was his boring reply.

We both sat there in our quietness as I continued to paint his right hand with various colors.

"Your hair looks nice today, might I add" he randomly stated, which I looked at him in the corner of my eye and muffled a smile wickedly, it's been a long time since I received a compliment. I really needed that.

"My hair straightener broke on me" was my boredom laced words.

"Ah, you look better without it" was his boredom laced reply.

I honestly didn't know how to reply, so I remained silent. It passed like that for about 3 minutes until I had to switch hands.

"You're still not allowed to look" I murmured, quick to get the yellow polish.

He remained quiet as he stared out the window.

"Would you like to know my real age?" it was a whisper, something I could've missed if it weren't for my peculiar acute hearing.

I tossed my hair behind my shoulders and gave him my expressionless face that I seemed to master over the past two years.

"38?" I asked, my monotonic voice paying no mind to my sarcastic response.

"I'm 17" he replied.

Quietness.

"How on earth are you seventeen?" I stood to my feet, and swiveled the top back on the lid of my nail polish and began receiving my nails polishes in a hurried brash manner.

Suddenly, there was this sickly odd feeling that settled low in the pitch of my stomach and relentlessly sent these awkward stomach aches as if I devoured something bad. Staring at his burgundy eyes that absolutely shown no shame in his age; I turned my body and rushed out of the classroom with weird thoughts running through my mind.


	2. Before Its Too Late

It felt it under my skin – this irreversible feeling of my skin stretching uncomfortably, the bones that I contained wickedly turning against me and growing in width and length, the once high pitched voice I held soon torn away from my throat and replaced with a much more deeper tone – Aging.

It was this horrid place where I currently resided.

The once was fourteen body I had has completely been devoured alive by the process of time. Though it irks me that I soon found myself to be resembling my father more and more, the memories of him slowly seeping into my mind alone simply causing the hate that I stored away for this place only to grow immensely along with my body – I felt pride in the age I've gotten too. However, there was a slight disappointment in coming back to London.

And that would be the task, the morons, and her.

Now the task was the lightly heavier reason why we'd returned. It was basic – plain. Find a mother for the wimpy runts back home. Easy, right? Yeah. Pretty much.

Then there was Cubby and Tootles. Damned brats couldn't believe I was returning, though I didn't tell them the reason why, the persistent things demanded to come – Well, Tootles did. Cubby pouted. Damnit – and left me no damned choice. Annoying nuisances.

I looked desperately for a decent enough mother that was loud, ugly, and cooked well.

In this search, I found Stella Monroe. Damnit!

Now, she ain't that bad of a chef, but she was as sure as hell ain't loud. Or ugly for that matter. Although, she was no mother.

She was quiet, insecure, self-conscious, stuttered when she was angry, bit her bottom lip when she was thinking, chewed on her nails when she enjoyed the attention, blinked her eyes excessively when she had too much attention, tugged on her earlobe when she was daydreaming…

I could literally name each physical trait she claimed for every thought she was thinking, but what I didn't get, was why she always held this emotionless façade, acting as if she kept her cool every damn time I knew she was flustered, or it anything for that matter.

She was translucent; you can forget her name in an instant. She wouldn't make a good mother to the lost boys, she'd get eaten alive.

But, she was perfect.

I spun around randomly in the plush seat in the vacant classroom, the windows harshly bestowing its rays onto the porcelain floors that glared awful into my eyes, though I ignored their shine and stared in a stone stare at the fingertips of my hands. They were colorful.

Breaking the emotionless stare, a grin slowly slipped onto my lips that I terribly want to tear off.

Holding the glossy nails to my lips and caressing them gently, relishing in the smooth surface, I closed my eyes and mentally pictured her fluffy hair that I dreadfully yearned to touch, it did look good today. Delicious.


	3. She's Scared to Breathe

She threw her coat on the rugged floor with much effort. She wasn't a person to willingly do such an act, though she only performed such antics once induced with the emotion that burned her veins to a near fire resembling temp. And that was curiosity.

Stella wasn't a typically modern teenage that threw her whole heart into a person, no. Because she knew that if she did, once they left, they'd take her heart along with them. She knew this repeatedly by her mother and father. The nights she kept awake, in hopes they'd return, only to be hushed to sleep by her at the moment nanny that paid no mind to her thoughts, and more to the paycheck they'd receive in their banking account by the end of the week.

Although, she did feel warmth radiate from Riley. Her current Nanny that caused heads to turn and smiles to beam, even Stella herself could openly admit that her house sitter/baby sitter was pretty much a sex symbol with a mouth as sharp as a knife and eyes that penetrated through the skin.

Stella knew a lot of things about her Nanny. One, for example, would be that she could actually take her on in a fight – this proved by one night when Riley went for a grocery run, then returned drunk, and Stella immediately threatening said Nanny with words that would never be repeated by her lips again.

Stella looked around the foyer for any signs of recognition of her self-proclaimed brash and messy entry to no avail. Plucking the huge-purse-that-could-pass-off-as-a-backpack and dropping it firmly on the ground once more, she instantly heard a holler from the living room, "I heard you the first time!" and a sigh that echoed the near-empty house.

Slipping out of her moccasin flats, Stella dashed forwards towards the living room that shown a Riley still barely clad and holding a pale of popcorn in one hand, and the remote television in the other, "whattawant, stinkystelly?" she mumbled through a very attractive mouthful of kernels.

Stella plumped herself in a unladylike fashion beside the bombshell and grabbed a handful of the over-dosed buttered popcorn and began explaining her dilemma.

"Could you teacher be under the age of 18?"

"Wouldn't know, I ain't a teacher"

"Damn, your useful" Stella sighed, shoving the handful into her mouth whilst staring at the screen flicker through the channels.

Riley then paused her surfing on some random football station and looked over to the sixteen year old, "is he hot?" she mumbled, a slow smile appearing on her plump lips.

Stella knitted her eyebrows together and weakly scrunched her nose at the thought, he was disgusting.

"Probably to you. He's usually most of the time underdressed, and dirty. You'd match him" Stella proposed, eyeing the cleavage she exposed, and the bit of grease on the rim of her mouth that drizzled down to her chin.

A faux laugh floated out of her mouth as she wiped of her messily evidence of the popcorn and frowned once picking back up the remote.

"Your hairs frizzy" Riley groaned.

"Your hairs greasy" Stella said with equal venom

Riley sighed dramatically and cuddled harshly into Stella's face, basically rubbing in the dirty from her grease matted hair into Stella. Stella's response was a quick jump to the feet and a quirky glare that was confused between shifting towards a laugh, or a seeth, though the gaze itself didn't last long, and soon Stella found herself walking up the steps towards her room.

Pannerson bothered her relentlessly, the idea of a 17 year old teaching her History was something that provoked her, like he was somewhat the cocky cock that passed every grade with flying colors, excelled in his Athletic abilities, and had a very eventful after schools programs that named numerous activities. Jealousy pulsed through her body.

Falling into the pillows of her bed, she quickly restored her red eyes the benefit of darkness and thought deeply onto the topic, "why is he so young?" she murmured to herself.

"Because your so twisted"

Stella dared herself to open her eyes, though slowly reacting to the noise, she peeked open her blue pupils only to be faced with nothingness that completely consumed her alive.

With her heard beating through her chest, enough to the fact that its intention were to break her chest plate, she sprinted towards her desk and plucked the home phone that perched on the wood. Dialing in the numbers, she began fiddling with her thumbs waiting for the ring to cease, and once it did, she heard a breaking voice of a male.

"Cubby, Please, come over, please" she said sternly, the voice of her somewhat demand leaning towards a threatening intention more than anything, though, the boy on the other line seemed the type to tolerate her plead, and replied with a curt, "I'll be there in a few" and then a dial tone.

There was a soft caress to her side, clutching the phone deeper into her chest, she closed her eyes tightly, and freakishly jumped at the feeling the lead her towards the explanations to the odd jitters she was feeling, and wasn't surprised to see a very coy smile from her Nanny.

Both sprawled onto the soft rug of Stella's room, Riley began softly chuckling at Stella's paranoia but voiced no opinions on the fact that Stella was roughly planted basically into the valley between her C cup breasts, but what surprised Riley, and even Stella herself, was the sixteen year olds random spontaneous bursts into a crying fit of wines.

"You scared me, Riley!" she squeaked, pulling back from the blonde mess that laid on the floor, watching the younger girl innocently pull the sleeves of the Harvard sweater that was three times to large for her frame – the hem of the gray cotton reaching her mid thigh, though Riley also made no comment on the appearance – she pulled her bottom lip under her teeth and softly pushed Stella away from her body.

"Don't be scared, Ellie" Riley cooed gently, pulling her into her lap, to which Stella softly took into the hug and roughly cried into the crook of her neck.

Stella herself didn't even know the reason to why she was crying. She just wanted to cry – once the tears struck the corners of her eyes, she was helpless and surrendered to her feelings. Since that was the only emotion that could basically appear onto her pale features, she over used the emotion and spilled her tears into Riley's bare neck.

"I'll go make some hot chocolate, how 'bout? And we'll watch a scary movie" Riley offered, Stella nodded her head gently, the tears dissipating into the air itself, she continued to wipe her face with the sleeves of her sweater which only made her appear more younger than she actually was.

Riley jumped to her feet and practically ran out the door to go make the hot chocolate that Stella adored.

Wiping the excess tears away from her eyes, Stella stared blindly at everything in her room and noticed the odd feeling it radiated.

Something wasn't right.

Pausing her wipes, she sniffled and fell dead silent.

It was footsteps inside of her bathroom, abruptly, she threw herself at the crystal doorknob and opened the door to be faced with a dripping wet dirty blonde haired teen that folded up his umbrella, once he noticed Stella, he offered a big ear to ear smile that only Cubby could perform.

"Why don't you ever use the front door?" she asked quietly, continuing to rub her eyes dry of her previous spasm of emotions. Cubby placed his umbrella delicately in the porcelain tub and sat on the toilet to remove his shoes, "You don't like romance?" he asked, quirking a coy grin in her direction, only for it to be replaced with a concern wrinkle between his eyes, "Ah. You've been crying again" though it was extremely rare for someone to witness the young Monroe to sob, it wasn't for Cubby. He'd spy her fuss and cry over the most littlest of things, such as not fitting into her size 3 jeans anymore, getting a cavity, getting a 60 on a test. She was horrible, in Cubby's eyes.

"Shutup" she crossed her arms, her red eyes slowly turning into its white creaminess, Cubby offered another puppy-dog smile that immediately broke down Stella's weak pathetic barriers and placed his working boots roughly into the tub of the bathroom.

Silence blanketed the two once walking into Stella's bedroom, both plopping themselves down on the fluffy blankets the bed offered graciously.

"Want'a know a secret?" Stella asked, her personality slowly turning from its stone-cold act to its usual bubbly self that she kept hidden. Curios stared blankly at the girl that sat straight as a pencil in the puffy bed and quirked his eyebrow, "my lips are seals" he said bluntly, as if he's never heard one of her secrets before. Stella faced the young boy and crossed her legs while holding a pillow to herself, "Y'know Mr. Pannerson?" she asked.

There was this twisted expression that crossed his face that she found to irritate her wickedly, as if he was surprised, but then he suppressed the excitement from the surprise-ment, and decided to keep what he knew away from her, as if she'd spoil something. "Y-Yeah?" was his wary response.

Stella half grinned at the dirty blonde and blinked innocently, "He's one year older than me" she whispered quietly.

Then that's how they remained, quiet.


	4. In the Sea of Memory

"So when are we leaving then?" Tootles asked enthusiastically, a huge Cheshire grin donning on his lips, his eyes closed to fully indulge in my response he knew – "tonight, we're leaving tonight. I'll get her tonight, then we'll leave".

"Yes!" The young lad fisted the air and smiled a beam that could probably stop people in their tracks. Peter would openly admit that the years here done good for him physically, he estimated his age to be a generous 17 years. Although, leaning against the wall of the townhouse the three busied themselves in – though it bore no furniture and wreaked of the microwavable meals they've been living off of, Peter was grateful – and stared down at his junior, "devising a plan would be worthless, we'll simply call her down and convince her to come on a trip with me" Peter smiled, "and if she doesn't – We'll simply kidnap her" he said the last words somewhat regretfully and slowly, with a tint of shame in them.

Closing his eyes, he started to breath slowly as he heard Tootles agree with a "Mm" and walked to the kitchen.

Though Cubby wouldn't admit it, Tootles was hard on the fact that it seemed Peter grew beyond his years. Though he took an appearance of seventeen years old, it was oblivious his insides didn't cooperate with him logically. Peter's theory of his extremely slow aging here in the real world was the fact that they took Neverland with them in their hearts. A somewhat odd theory Tootles had to admit, but nonetheless he liked to think of it that way. "Forty years, Tootles. Forty years" Peter hummed from the dining room. Tootles pondered on that thought – He should be a old geezer by now! Not a young teen. It was strange, but somewhat satisfying.

The house was dead quiet, excluding the sound of the plastic peeling from his dinner, Cubby was still out with their soon-to-be mother, and Tink was most likely fast asleep in her room upstairs – he grew accustomed to the soundless nights in the house , rather than the rough bunch he lived with in Neverland – He missed everyone. The pang in his heart was wicked, and in sync with the front door slamming while Cubby made his way into the house drizzling moist from the still raining weather outside that went on for two hours straight.

"I've been counting down the seconds!" Cubby exclaimed excitedly, "I held back every word about this from Stella! It took me everything I got, but I managed not to tell her!" he smiled wickedly at nobody in particular as he neatly hung his coat onto the hook by the door, and slipped out of his boots.

"Did you see her hair today, Tootles?" he said happily as he strode into the kitchen – the bright smile still well apparent on his lips, "I thought she looked like a dog" Tootles smiled at Cubby, almost in a taunting fashion, as if he were to physically hurt Cubby in a way, "You're a dog" Cubby's enthusiastic nature simply died inside of him at that remark, and he passed Tootles whilst maturely sticking his tongue out at him.

Cubby loudly made Peter known to his presence by sitting down at the table and burrowing his head into the glossy surface, the rain slowly seeping from his messy locks and onto the said table.

Peter smiled over at Cubby, and sat down at the other end, "her hair was lovely, wasn't it?" he asked, slowly grazing his eyes into the ceiling of the room, the picture perfect image of her hair appearing in his mind – lovely was an understatement.

Silently in the room, waiting for the microwave to cook his food, tootles rocked back and forth from toes to the heel of his foot closing his eyes as well, remembering her hair this morning once she entered the Taxi, the wavy mess, and smiled.

"Your nails are pretty, Peter" Cubby chuckled.

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><p>"DINNERS READY!" Riley screamed in her ear shuddering tone that caused Stella to immediately pause her movements from painting her toe nails a nude polish, and frowned wickedly. Twisting the cap back on the nail polish, she squinted her blue eyes down at the unnoticeable shade and gave a mental approval, then walked to the door careful not to smudge the paint.<p>

The smell of pizza tacked her senses. It was oblivious she wasn't going to cook tonight – it was Friday – and most likely after the few pieces and watching a rerun of Jersey Shore, she was to be gone and out partying with some stuck up frats from the college across town, but she didn't mind – the lonesomeness was somewhat comforting, and this would be the only time she could Skype her mom and dad in peace, other than having the blonde tranny walking around in the background with some skimpy clothing on that shown more breast than amateur porn. She sighed and walked down the stairs, "if you keep screaming like that – people with suspect things" Stella frowned, grabbing a slice of the cheese pizza while on her way to the living room to join her on the sectional that her dad wouldn't tell her the price of. Ironically, he didn't pull off the price tag hidden inside the plush – it was twice the amount of the rent here in this urban estate. Which was a lot.

"Your making me gain weight while you gain nothing" Stella frowned as she sat closely to Riley, leaning her head into her stomach that shown no belly fat whatsoever, her response to the remark was a very concerned, "eh! Your young". Stella sighed as she watched Snooki run around in a dress that was two sizes too small, and gawked at her confidence she was openly envious of – then 20 minutes into the show, there was a never ending ding-dongs! At the door by those nuisance boys Riley was fond of.

"I bought your favoriiite!' some boy sang as he kept knocking and repeatedly pressing on the bell, Riley shot up from her cough and dashed towards the door and you could practically hear the whore coming out of her mouth while greeting them. She then returned only to grab the denim short shorts and white tank that shown a lot of her no-belly-fat belly and carelessly changed right then and there, "See you tonight, hun" she chimed in her tone of voice that actually meant she cared about her, and kissed her gently atop her hair, "Yeah, yeah, love you Ry. Be safe" Stella smiled in return, "Love you!" Riley exclaimed loudly back, then the sound of the door slam echoed throughout the house.

"What to do! What to do!" Stella yelled loudly, it was at times like these – curled up into that gray couch, watching episodes that bored her, and eating that calorie-filled piece of pizza – is when she actually wished for friends.

Time passed by in seconds, she watched the clock above the flatscreen and hoped that it was go by faster to Sunday, whereas she could be playing center in the Bantams hockey team she was in, whereas instead of sitting here and getting fat.

"I have no life!" she screamed, her voice rivaling Riley's.

Then, oddly, there was a knock on the door.

Stella throwing her pizza to the hardwood floor without a care, went to go actually communicate with some other being this Friday evening other than her nanny.

Opening the door, she was revealed to see Curios, Todem, and Mr. Pannerson all at once, which scared Stella out of her wits, and immediately attempted to slam the door, until Curios put a foot in the crack.

"Stella, Ella, Ola!" Curios sang childishly, while three rounds of claps followed from each person behind the door, "Get away from me!" Stella screeched, attempting feverishly to close the huge wooden door in their faces, squishing Curios' foot in the process.

After exerting too much strength into closing the barrier, she opened the door with her hands full apparent on her plump hips and frowned at the three boys, "How do you guys even know each other?" She asked with such emotion, Todem's stoic frown bloomed into a ear to ear smile that shined brilliantly, that Stella's cheeks slightly blushed at the sight of.

"Come with me, on my trip, Stella" Peter asked ignoring her inquisition, his beaming ginger eyes practically sparkling in the midnight air, "This is inappropriate behavior, Mr. Pannerson!" Stella all but screamed loudly, so passerby's on the street gave questionable stares at the trio standing on her doorstep.

Tootles whistled, "Some posh neighbourhood you got here" Cubby nodded in agreement, "I get strange looks when I climb into her window". Peter stared at the two in their engagement, both seemingly to forget about the whole ordeal and busying themselves into a regular conversation they'd have at their evening meals.

"Let us in, Stella, please" Peter asked kindly, his auburn locks sticking to his forehead, giving this aura that Stella couldn't fully swallow. She sighed and opened the door wider, and as Peter and Cubby both willingly walked into the house, Stella stood by the door knob and watched as they both respectively removed their wet layer of clothing, all the while Tootles stood solemnly in the doorsteps, still outside the house.

"May I come in?" Tootles asked, his eyes flashing with a mixture of curiosity and something Stella couldn't make note of, "Yeah" she replied quietly, inwardly disturbed by her Taxi driver, though attempting to not sound so smugly while doing so.

And Tootles walked in the same fashion as both Peter and Cubby.

"Inviting you guys into my house is strange! Get back outside!" Stella shouted, the thought occurring to her as these mere men were wandering into her living room, "Mm" Peter sniffed the air, which Stella thought wasn't creepy at all, and smiled as she turned to face her, "your house smells like lemons".

"Back on topic!" Stella karate chopped her hand and frowned briskly at the trio that stood in the foyer of their house, the chandelier slightly swaying with their brash steps, Stella rubbed the temples of her forehead, "I don't want to go on a trip with you".

"Why not?" Cubby was the first to counter, to which she frowned decisively, "because you guys give me an eerie feeling is all!" she sing sang, which was odd to hear coming out of her mouth with such a blank face.

"We're not eerie, Stella" Peter said, slowly walking closer to her, his eyes fixed on hers, "We'd just like your company on our trip" he grinned, and hit with a trance, Stella heard her voice, but couldn't feel her mouth moving.

"YES! Stella's coming" Cubby fist pumped the air while Tootles did the same with each a wicked smile on their lips.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm slowly falling in love with grown Tootles & Cubby C: Its sickening. Haha! Well thank you for the review Kawaii-Panda-Sama, this is solely for you C: **


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